Number (1), the eldest, relocated to New Jersey and my second elder brother, well, he was local,
however, as he would always say he resided "where ever nightfall caught him.."
Now, let's talk younger brother... Leukemia took our baby brother while he was in his 30's. I was
especially devastated as he was my closest sibling and friend. Even at 3 years apart, people thought
we were twins because my mother would dress us as twins and we had rhyming names. It hit us all
hard. As a matter of fact, my younger brother's heartfelt popularity extended to his local
community. A local and Nationally Decorated Peace Of cer admired even by the criminals.I always imagined there would be a time for us to sit on our porches in rockers somewhere as old
men, drink beer and watching our grandkids as they run amuck while playing with each other.Our father died and never witnessed any funeral services of his 6 children. I don't think he would
have had a frozen smile for any of their funeral services. I think he would have broken his stone face
with tears at some point. My mother's faith held steadfast for all her children's deaths, but not of
her husband. She could not hold her grief. I felt powerless... We all did.We, as sibling adults, would only be all together only once in our adult life. It was truly an amazing
memory for all of us, A WOW! moment for my mother. So much love, laughter, so many stories.I often joked with my younger brother, Number #9, telling him, my daddy wanted only 3 sons (‘My
Three Sons’ - 60’s TV show)...My daddy had 2 sons rst, then ve straight girls; then I was born... (he
had his 3 sons)...OH...I would tell my younger brother, he was born a mistake. Number #9 never saw the humor in that
joke. I still recite that joke as the explanation for my parents having 9 children. Cruel I know...I believe my daddy was the best father gure in my immediate neighborhood. Mostly by default. I
don’t recall any of my friends living with their father full-time in our apartment complex. My other
friends in our extended neighborhood, all had fathers at home. They all lived in homes.
My father loved the attention of my friends in our immediate apartments would give him. He ate it
up. A-liken to being 'The Father of the Neighborhood.'
My dad drove an SUV of the day, a new red Chevy Impala station wagon most of my youth era, We
were all proud of that car. It was always washed, waxed and clear of litter.
In spite of my father's kindness to our friends, none of my friends ever got a chance to ride in our
station wagon. No room.LOL... We all knew our seating spot in the car...LOL.
We all loved the family'strips to the outdoor drive-in movies on Friday nights, sunny beaches on
Saturday mornings and to rural Alabama, Georgia, also known as 'The Country' during the
summer. Sometimes we would visit my mother's sister in Daytona Beach. I would later attend
college in Daytona Beach on a football scholarship. Go gure.
Lesson Learned - Sometimes e’rbody can’t go...
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